Saturday, October 29, 2016

See, I live on the second floor of a complex of compartments. From that second floor height, high up from the ground can seem a lot higher than it actually is. If you're actually on the ground and judging the same height then you can get it, about how it's not really all that high.

With that said... what happened was, I was on my second floor balcony and looking down. What I saw was a pair of gloves that somebody had fastened to the branches of a tree, right there, and just under my position and out of reach.

Well, thought I, I'll take on this challenge! I'll just go down the stairs and underneath, and JUMP up and grab the prize gloves! It'll be excellent. It looked so easy, from way up above. Ain't that something though? Don't it always look easy from above?

So I clambered back down those stairs and was just ALL READY to jump as high as I could, from ground level, to claim those high-up gloves that I'd spotted from my second floor balcony compartment... and do you wanna know what happened then? Huh?

Those gloves were pinned to branches that came up to my shoulder at ground level. Those gloves weren't prize gloves... they were just somebody's gloves that were hung out to dry on a tree branch.

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

I'd like to try to explain something in detail. A personal experience.

There's this song that I listen to a lot, called 'proceed to memory'. When I first heard it, it imprinted upon my memory circuits as a nostalgia.

You know, you never can tell when those things will pop up and be permanent.

Well it did, and it had autumn as its reference. It's perfect, if you look at it as fall, being an ending, and proceeding into winter, as a memory...

Anyway.

Oh yeah. I almost lost track of what I was wanting to talk about. It's about this memory that I have, of when I was a little kid, in little kids school. Way back a hundred eons ago, in North Carolina, at Skerlock School. I have a lot of early imprints of that place, but not really that many actual memories. I think that the imprints show up in my dreams though, sometimes.

Anyway, again.

At night, when I walk up Ponder Street, up towards the high school, there's always a street light that casts shadows on the tall brick side of the school building. I've stopped there, just a whole bunch of times, looking at that brick wall with the shadows on it. They're simple shadows - just tree branches. Fuzzy, low resolution shadows, cast from a distance. But they sound... I mean, they look just like those lyrics. These lyrics.

"And soon all you'll have is a memory."
"And then you won't even have that memory."

It's very personal, this thing I'm talking about. Not that it's private... just, personal. You know? You probably won't get it. I'd like it if you got it, though.

Distraction from Imminent Despair

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Zounds cried the astounded clown in a gown who was bound for down town as he frowned at the resounding sound of the renowned crown that he'd found as it wound up on a round mound surrounded by abounding brown ground near his half drowned hound from around the pound. Meh.